CHAPTER TWO: CARNAGE
Two pairs of baleful eyes, hidden behind infrared goggles glowing fiery red in the gloom from skull-like Kevlar facemasks, glared with surprise in the direction of the doorway to their owners' dark, dingy hideaway. One could say that the portal exploded, but that particular verb would not have done the action justice. Rather, it shattered into infinitesimal pieces. The dwellers in the darkness had seen something like this before during their days as assassins-for-hire, when a tremendous landslide had plowed through a government official's estate seconds before they had been scheduled to blow it up.
But this was slightly different – more localized and very professional. It was classic anti-terrorist tactics – hit them with smoke and sonics, then storm in while the targets were still disoriented. Whatever was coming, it would be rough. Nightfall and Sundown were certain of it, and they were right.
Dust clouds settled slowly, depositing a pale sheet upon the ground. A loud creak and a yell of shock as the intruders literally fell for the pit trap in the hallway – a concealed hole approximately two meters square and eight feet deep, lined by downward-pointing spikes smeared with feces. Four loud bangs now, indicating that careless feet had activated the four double-barreled shotguns suspended from the ceiling in the succeeding corridor, each with a near-invisible tripwire connected to its trigger. A Herstal P-90 chattered, sending a hail of bullets flying into the foyer, but the robed ghouls had already zigzagged away, making for the higher ground and staying low to diminish their size as targets. This was the perfect time to do it, while the interlopers were still stunned by the hideout's hidden traps – the last place the pair wanted to be was pinned down on a lower level.
When a diminutive female form wielding the aforementioned submachine gun leapt out of the haze and came bounding up the stairs, the astonishment that registered in Nightfall and Sundown's minds at this unbelievable sight lasted for but a moment. They had heard horror stories about this stuff before – delirious babblings of mortally wounded Padania friends in hospital, talking of pre-adolescent government assassins with superhuman strength and bulletproof skin; killer cyborg tots who decimated the terrorists' ranks, took a licking and kept on kicking. Never being ones to disregard information just because the source may have been a crackpot, the duo silently leveled their TAO JaTiMatics – the custom-made, large-capacity magazines loaded with armor-piercing ammunition – at their opponent as she closed the distance, seemingly unaware of their presence behind a large cupboard.
In spite odds of a million to one, it was at the precise moment Nightfall and Sundown chose to open fire that the tiny figure bent low and unleashed a fusillade of her own as the deadly rounds with their tungsten-carbide cores whizzed overhead. Cursing vilely, the killers rolled for cover, bullets snatching at their capes and riddling the fabric with holes, only to run into a second adversary – a tall, lean man in standard Special Forces door-kicking and room-clearing gear, who instantly pulled a Beretta and started shooting. Caught completely off-guard, Nightfall collapsed like a paper house in a hurricane upon being hit twice in the back and Sundown, catching three rounds in the chest, toppled backwards, colliding with his initial target as he tumbled down the stairs. Their discarded weapons spun across the floor, harmlessly coming to rest ten-odd meters away.
Unaware that the trauma plates beneath his adversaries' robes had left them largely unharmed, Giuseppe approached his fallen quarry only to have the fiend leap on him like a wildcat. Needle-like artificial claws sprung like flick-knives from the fingers of Nightfall's left gauntlet, digging into Giuseppe's side and tearing off the rear panel of his bulletproof vest. Filed teeth, like razors, found their mark on his trapezius, sending white-hot pain searing through the muscles' every fiber. Giuseppe lashed out with an elbow, knocking Nightfall off his back and launching a counter-attack of his own, but the serial killer deflected it expertly and soon showed him what a fast kick truly was. The blow exploded in the SISDE agent's midsection, sunlight flaring behind his eyes as the agony rose.
With a superhuman effort, Giuseppe ignored the pain and twisted aside, barely escaping Nightfall's next strike as he did so, and rapidly grasped that trying to match his opponent's savagery was a mistake. Armed with this knowledge, he began to take the fight to the enemy in a new fashion both cunning and ruthless.
Feigning dazed and permitting Nightfall to come in close and try for a third kick, Giuseppe dodged at the very last moment and struck him just the right sort of cut above the eyes – the type that bled. The murderer's next few blows he evaded and ducked away from as best he could until the blood from the aforesaid wound trickled down into Nightfall's eyes. He charged, blind, and Giuseppe delivered a quick jab to the nerve cluster in his deltoid. It did not hurt Nightfall the least bit… but no force on Earth could help him move his left arm now.
His right was still in action, though, and it was still as rapid and as deadly as ever, the gloved, brass-knuckled fist tipping it connecting with Giuseppe's jaw in the blink of an eye and knocking him off-balance. Blackness came in from the edges of Giuseppe's vision and the lower half of his face felt as though it was ablaze, but he successfully willed himself from succumbing to the agony. By now sick of the arm, he launched forward before Nightfall could pause to wipe his eyes clean and killed it beneath the elbow with a skillfully aimed chop.
The killer let out a howl of frustration and spun for Giuseppe's throat, fangs aimed at his jugular. Side-stepping this frenzied assault, Giuseppe tripped up his foe and sent him crashing headfirst to the floor. The impact of the concrete against his face was sufficient to stun Nightfall and Giuseppe quickly flex-cuffed the fallen man's ankles together while he was still incapacitated.
Meanwhile, Henrietta was fully engaged with Sundown at the foot of the stairs. Her foe fought ferociously, punishing her with numerous body blows that would have finished a lesser mortal in mere seconds, but the young brunette soaked up the first few hits like a sponge and effortlessly avoided the rest in a series of graceful movements that left Sundown swiping at empty air. What sounded like the maddened shriek of a wounded beast filled the hall as Henrietta took hold of Sundown's arms and twisted downwards, snapping them like twigs before flinging him cleanly through a nearby wood-and-plaster wall.
Gasping and wheezing, Sundown scrambled to his feet in spite of the sheer agony that wracked his body, desperately trying to press a nearby detonator-like switch that was linked by wires to a bulky object that lay in a corner of the room he had been hurled into. But Henrietta cut short his attempt, so to speak. Striding in with a sharp-edged plank in her hands and her delicate features set in a terrible blend of hatred and triumph, she brushed the button away from Sundown's booted left foot and hacked off his head.
Giuseppe was leaning against the banister, utterly exhausted, as his fratello ascended the steps. He scarcely had time to approach her and ask after her well being when Henrietta yanked the captive Nightfall upright and stared him in the eye with a look of pure loathing. Befuddlement clouded the supervisor's mind upon seeing the killer's grimy, unshaven face register stark terror – not the fear that criminals and terrorists experience upon being confronted with the Agency's cybernetically enhanced hit-kids, but the fear of meeting a nightmare from your past that has come back to haunt you.
Before Giuseppe could do anything to stop her, Henrietta was repeatedly and feverishly thrusting a long sliver of glass into the prisoner's chest, severing his heart from its attachments. Vena cava superior. Aorta. Arteria pulmonalis. Bronchus principalis. Nightfall slumped to the floor as Henrietta released him, dying slowly and agonizingly in a pool of his own blood.
END OF CHAPTER TWO